Broken
by mori-princess359
Summary: Follow Richard "Dick" Grayson on his journey to becoming Nightwing! Enjoy!
1. Death

The deaths of John and Mary Grayson devastated many, especially their young son, Richard "Dick" Grayson. After he had accepted the fact that his parents were gone forever and had, in a sense moved on, he was adopted by Bruce Wayne.

Bruce was a billionaire playboy who ,seemingly, was a partier and just did the charity thing for publicity. But what Gotham didn't know is that their beloved icon, was actually their beloved crimefighter Batman. When Bruce put the mask on, he was Batman. Without his mask he was just Bruce Wayne, and that apparently wasn't enough for him. He traveled the world learning various techniques of martial arts.

During his intense training, Bruce persevered through every challenge and hardship. He never quit, and never gave up. This attitude is the attitude and determination he needed to start a crusade for justice, even though Bruce might have viewed justice differently than other heroes.

With Wayne Tech unknowingly backing him up, he invented many different gadgets to help him on this crusade of justice he was set on. He adopted Dick because he knew what it felt like. He knew what it felt like to watch your parents die at the hand of a mad man.

The murderer of young Dick's parents was never caught and imprisoned. Dick felt sorrow, fear, and guilt all at the same time. His fear was that he was Tony Zucco's next target. The last of the Flying Graysons, Dick felt like a vulnerable target. The guilt came from when he knew he could've said something about the suspicious man that walked out of the tent right befor the show. Everybody kept telling him it wasn't his fault, but he still felt partly responsible for it.

The next few weeks Dick would get used to living with Gotham's finest; finest billionaire that is. Bruce had a butler, the biggest living room Dick had ever seen, and a picture. This picture was very special, though. It was a picture of his parents. He kept it hanging above his fireplace in his room. Dick didn't feel as bad for himself after he had seen the portrait. At least Bruce could relate to him. Dick could talk about issues, and Bruce would understand - if Bruce was ever around to talk to. Bruce seemed to always be caught up in his "work", but one night Dick would discover something that would change his life forever.

After about two weeks of living with the fact that his parents were dead and he was legally living with Bruce Wayne, nine year old Richard Grayson still wasn't comfortable. He hated being called Richard, but he almost never spoke unless spoken to, which means he never told Bruce or Alfred that he was used to being called Dick instead of Richard.

One night as Dick lay in his new bedroom, he heard faint voices. They were bothering him, so he crouched down by the door, and started to listen to the conversation between the his "dad", and his loyal butler.

"What the boy needs right now, more than ever, is a father figure."

"I know Alfred.... I know. But my work won't allow."

"Yes, of course. Bruce Wayne must contribute to the city every night."

"Alfred, I-"

"If I may, Sir, maybe your other _job_ is for your own benefit rather than the city's."

As Alfred left Bruce to ponder what he had said, Dick still had his ear firmly pressed against the door. He slowly opened it, and swiftly glided across the sleek and shining hardwood floors. He slipped into a room where he had never been before. Above the fireplace in that room was an almost identical painting of Bruce's parents, except it was Dick's own parents. He stared at it for some time before he felt a strong, warm hand on his shoulder. He jumped slightly at the sudden gesture.

"I meant to show this to you yesterday. My work kind of got in the way."

"Doesn't it always?" Dick muttered under his breathe.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing. Nothing."

"It's not just nothing."

"Yes it is... just... nothing at all."

"Okay, whatever you say, Richard."

"It's Dick." Dick mumbled.

"What? Rick? Well, if you want me to-" Bruce was cut off.

"No. Dick."

"Oh, okay Dick."

There was a long, silent pause.

"Tell you what, Dick. If I have to call you Dick, you have to call me Bruce. Not "Mr.  
Wayne". Deal?"

"Deal."

"Great. Now, do you want to stay in here for a while, or go back to your room?"

"Um... I guess I'll stay in here."

"Okay. If you need me, I'm in my study."

"'Kay."

Bruce retreated back to his study, while Dick curled up on the lazy chair that was placed in the middle of the room facing the fireplace. The windows on the far right wall looked out into the dark Gotham sky.

Dick stared out the chilly windows for some time. He noticed every building, but one stood apart from the others. It was a tall, red, brick building. It had something on the gray, concrete roof. The object seemed to stick out just a little. It was darker than the building's outline in the dark sky, but gleamed still.

_'A spotlight?'_ Dick thought.

_'Why would there be a spotli-? Oh, that's right. Batman lives here in Gotham.'_

Dick finally realized that Gotham was home to The Dark Knight. The Caped Crusader. Whatever people called him these days. He then realized that the spotlight he saw was located on top of the Gotham City Police Department (GCPD) headquarters.

_'But why would Bruce have a perfect view of it?_

_'No, he couldn't... could he? Could Bruce Wayne, swaying bachelor billionaire be the man behind cowl?'_

It all made sense to Dick now: Bruce's parents were killed, he wanted vengeance, so he took action by becoming Batman. Now he helps others so they don't suffer the same trauma as he did. It all made perfect sense. Or was it that he fit the profile so perfectly, that it was too good to be true.

Many dissapointments in Dick's life came from him being so hopeful and foolish. He didn't want it happening again.

Dick stayed up almost all night pondering this. Could it be that he lived with one of the world's greatest superheroes?

"Cool." he quietly whispered to himself. He was too exited to go to sleep now. He had to have proof. So, like Batman, he was going to get it. One way or the other.


	2. Bonding

The next night, Dick slipped quietly into the same room where the picture of his parents was. He sat in the lazy chair again, still studying the scene outside the windows. He wasn't used to staying up as late as he already had, and so his eyes slowly closed, and he drifted to sleep. Not even an hour later, something startled him awake. It was Alfred. He dare not move. He didn't even breathe. Alfred toyed with the Grandfather Clock for a minute, then it opened. Dick's eyes widened. After the butler had returned, and was nowhere in sight or within earshot, Dick crept over to the clock. He fumbled his fingers around, trying to mimic some of Alfred's movements. No luck.

He leaned against the clock slightly as he sighed, and it opened. He fell in, and the door behind him closed. The elevator kept going down, it seemed like it took forever. Bullets of sweat began to form on the young blue-eyed boy's brow. When the elevator stopped, he stepped out into some sort of cave.

Not just a cave, the Bat-cave. "Whoa." is all he could say.

"It's freezing down here." He managed to softly say through his chattering teeth. Every word he said echoed, so he stayed quiet. It didn't help, though. Every step he took echoed. Every breathe that came out as an icy fog was heard throughout the whole stone underground facility. He marveled in awe at all the memorabilia that was spread throughout the second level.

"This. Is. So. Cool." He whispered to himself. He was too amazed and shocked to think about what he would do with his discovery. Then, "Ahh-" Dick was about to scream due to the sudden jolt of his body. Cold, icy leather covered his mouth. The temperature seemed to drop drastically as the color drained from his face. A strong, tight arm wrapped around his stomach, getting tighter. The pressure from the squeeze was almost bone-crushing. His eyes got extremely wide at first reaction, but now they were shut as tight as could be. He didn't want to see whatever it was that had suddenly restrained him. Thoughts raced through his head.

_'Zucco had come for him next.'_

'Someone just had to get through him to get to Bruce.'

'Bruce found out.'

'Another maniac was on a rampage.'

He was so terrified he almost passed out from the shock. His body was limp. Whatever had grabbed him had taken him so suddenly that he had no time to react. He couldn't fight back. His adrenaline was racing, but he couldn't move. His legs felt like Jello. He could feel his heart beating, and he could've swore he heard it too. He was released, and collapsed to the ground. He didn't stand up, but what he did see when he looked up was... The Batman.

The two just stared at eachother. The Dark Knight's eyes seemed to look right through Dick. Dick's adrenaline was rushing, his brain was telling him to run, but he couldn't. He wouldn't. He couldn't think straight. All he could do was just look at the tall, dark figure. The dark figure just stared back at him. The white slits that had formed in the upper part of Bruce's mask seemed to bore holes into Dick's soul.

He felt like gravity was gluing him to the ground.

All he could do was look into those eyes.

The flashback started: The Flying Graysons were performing their grand finale for Haly's Circus. It was a stunt no one had ever done before. Without a net. Just before the show, Tony Zucco and his brothers had sabotaged the act by cutting the ropes slightly. Only so much that the two acrobats would fall to their deaths when they performed the unimaginable stunt without a net. Dick's mother came to grab him from the swinging bar, but just before she could reach him, she fell.

"Dick..."

The horror in her eyes.

Her hands still reaching towards her only son.

She never looked to the ground. Only at her beloved son.

Dick stared right back at her. His arms outstretching as far as they could.

Useless.

That day he watched his parents die right in front of his young and innocent eyes. Tears formed in his eyes as he broke down. All he could do was cry.  
By the time Dick had reentered reality, tears had formed in his eyes and were falling to the ground in front of him. Suddenly he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. He didn't flinch, but looked up surprised to see Bruce - not Batman - Bruce, a warm and sincere smile on his face.

Dick didn't think about what he did next. It was just a reaction. He wrapped his arms around Bruce and cried into his cape. Bruce was not used to this affection, but hugged back.

He held Dick tight.

All he wanted was for Dick not to take the same path as him: living his life for vengeance. Maybe it was because his life had tragically taken the same turn.

They just knelt there for a few minutes. Dick crying; Bruce thinking.

Then, Dick suddenly got up, and Bruce left with him.

Silence.

Neither one of them said a single word.

They rode the elevator back up, and sat in front of the fire for hours staring into the flames as though they could see the ones they had lost and still loved.


End file.
